


time on the other side.

by soften



Series: consort verse [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soften/pseuds/soften
Summary: how baekhyun and junmyeon meet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> again, a continuation in the master/pet verse. this was originally posted on 09/11/16 on my fic tumblr. unbeta'd, enjoy! if you'd like to follow me on twitter, it is right [here](https://twitter.com/honeymyeons).

baekhyun is eighteen years old when the courting papers makes it way to the byun residence.

there is a rush of servants around the hanok, kneeling in front of the paper doors. there is the soft clinking of porcelain chopsticks against the edges of ceramic bowls.

baekhyun can already anticipate what is going to happen, he can already imagine his mother’s serene smile, his father’s brows knitting in the preparation of contracts.

the letter is written neatly, the wax seal reminiscent of the kim family, a deep impressionable teardrop pressed into the hardened wax.

baekhyun’s eyes shift slowly from the delicate bowl, filled with rice, porcelain chopsticks placed neatly down to the contract in his father’s hand.

“the kim family?” his mother asks, prim hands folded over one another.

his father hums, deep in his throat. he places the paper down, fingers rubbing against his chin in thought. “they sent a prospect for baekhyun to be courted by their second son, junmyeon.”

baekhyun’s cheeks flush, head bowed. his neck feels warm as his hands fold one over the other, like his mother’s. he can distinctly remember junmyeon’s face, the soft cheeks and straight nose, his clothes tailored to fit his body to make him look intimidating by his elite position.

“baekhyun,” his father says.

baekhyun lifts his head up, staring at his father. his father is gentle, but strict, like any good father with someone groomed to be a political piece in a war game. his forehead is creased, concentration seeped into each line.

baekhyun waits.

his father ignores the shadows on the other side of the door. the servants will be talking about this, gossiping over the idea of baekhyun getting married. as it is, baekhyun is the softest of the family, the one who takes care of himself besides bathing and ceremonial dressings.

“kim junmyeon is a prospect,” his father starts. he steeples his fingers together, the paper resting on the table. baekhyun can feel the weight of it from here. “his family is expensive, a political gold mine.”

his mother, though aged, was a pawn like him, once upon a time. “it would be a good idea to accept, even for a brief encounter. your father and i will be there, as you know.”

baekhyun knows, in the customs, that his say shouldn’t be thought of. his family has sprouted into new ideals, new prospects. there is no need to give away a child like a slave. accommodating the child helps the operation work faster, better. but, it’s not that. his parents love him, as much as they can.

“okay,” baekhyun says, voice quiet. he can see the shuffling shadows of some servants, running to get the baths ready. “i accept the contract.”

*

junmyeon is the second son of the kim family.

baekhyun receives a warm welcome when he travels to the house, not far from the byun residence. the kim hanok is the same enclosed shape, despite their origins being in the south. their house is closer to the river, with each clay shingle of their multiple roofs shining with the sun.

baekhyun bows respectfully, hands pressed together, feet straight with ankles touching. the robes are fitted to his body, the outer layers forming him into more of an illusion. the customs say that temptation causes fallacy in marriages. when he steps in line with junmyeon, baekhyun feels like he’s gliding on water.

“junmyeon-nim,” baekhyun starts, realizing he doesn’t know what to say. what could he say to a man who knows everything there is? whose family owns ports and every member knows how to ride the horses bred for their family alone? his voice fades into silence.

junmyeon, as he is, doesn’t startle. he simply says, “i know it’s daunting, to suddenly receive my request. i won’t pressure you into making talk of my family and how we are.”

the kim family is strict. their adherence to the customs of pet laws is close to reverence. baekhyun knows that junmyeon was raised by more than just his mother, but the consorts his father keep, as well. he wonders, if that made junmyeon a better person.

a better lover.

“it’s just that–being of your age, i would expect you to find someone more refined to your age,” baekhyun speaks. adding “junmyeon-nim” at the end, a beat too late. his mother would cluck her tongue. their parents are thankfully inside, sipping on tea and letting their own contracts lay their needs and wants on the table.

junmyeon smiles, reflected in the fading sunlight that shines. the servants are idling around, the closest to the walking couple monitoring their conversation. “you interest me, baekhyun. you have since our parents began bringing us to court.”

baekhyun feels himself still. junmyeon, in his poised stance, doesn’t even reflect on the stutter. instead, he turns himself simply, and waits.

and waits.

“interesting?” baekhyun asks. he can remember being sixteen and playing the piano for the most influential families, back when baekbeom had solidified his courtship into marriage. baekhyun remembers his mother’s gaze, the way her smile brightened when baekhyun bowed in respect for the elders, on his knees with his hands stretched out.

“yes,” junmyeon answers. “you’re interesting to me, byun baekhyun.”

*

baekhyun is twenty years old, the year he gets married to junmyeon.

there is no more junmyeon-nim, just the flustered laughter of a, junmyeon, on his lips. their parents had agreed on letting baekhyun move into the kim household.

when baekhyun stepped foot into the manor for the first time, his feet warmed underneath. it felt achingly like home, but the soft hair piece with the kim’s water drop pendant holding strands of his hair reminded him differently.

the wedding has been taking its sweet time. junmyeon, despite his position and his power, insists on helping baekhyun and the other maidens who flock to baekhyun’s side whenever he appears in the courtyard with the planning.

their planning doesn’t take place in the common area. they’re not allowed to share a bedroom until the actual wedding, when their names are dried in ink on the communal contracts that solidifies their ties to each other, and each other’s families. their planning, instead, takes place on their nightly walks throughout the bare courtyard.

a spring wedding, despite their inability to bring forth children, is agreed upon. a romantic marriage is as encouraged as a blissful one. their families make it known that, while there are politics involved, it is first and foremost a marriage between two people who want to be together. baekhyun agreed enough, speaking up with a blush, to which junmyeon bit his lip to contain his smile.

“a spring wedding,” junmyeon comments. he looks toward the trees where the flowers are still hidden in their casings, sleeping until the sun is warm enough to bloom. “you’ll look beautiful in spring colors, don’t you think?”

baekhyun blushes. their hands do not touch, or hold. their parents, as strict to traditions as they are, claim that even a hand to baekhyun’s would soil him. he is to remain untouched until the wedding, their parents insisting to keep their political alliance and familial hold as strong as it could be. it wouldn’t do to have people gossiping in the sarangchae, or in the other galas and balls hosted by the royal family.

baekhyun tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear, feeling the sleek silver of the hairpiece tucked into the soft strands. “would i?” he asks, glancing at junmyeon.

junmyeon’s family, despite the two concubines, is small. there is his older brother, sent off to a foreign land in the west to help with the family. everything, whether as the consort or the concubine, is meant to strengthen the family.

“yes,” his answer is sincere. “even the flowers and your hanbok will be put to shame by that smile. or, that blush.”

baekhyun waves junmyeon’s compliments off. his mother always remarks that a compliment was meant to be taken lightly, to not hold value. even so, baekhyun’s cheeks flame, fingertips pressing against his cheeks. he has gained a bit of weight, junmyeon laughing softly about how home has made baekhyun’s stomach fonder.

he also remarked if baekhyun had gained weight in his thighs, sneaking a peek in the slit of baekhyun’s leisure robes. baekhyun, in an act of rebellion, let the slit fall open wider, pale flesh of his thigh on display for a second before hiding them when the servants came to refill their tea.

baekhyun sleeps in a room decorated with light curtains. junmyeon brings him back inside, after discussing which dates and nuts to bring forth during the advising with their families. baekhyun turns, slightly, and nods when junmyeon brings him to his room.

“thank you,” he says, bowing.

junmyeon, in an act of defiance, runs his fingertips over a strand of baekhyun’s long, combed hair.

he retracts his hand before the servants could catch such a soiling act. “you’re welcome, baekhyun.”

*

there are petals fallen into baekhyun’s hair, when junmyeon’s arm wraps around his slender waist. they can finally touch, chest to chest. their foreheads pressed together.

“my love,” junmyeon whispers. “welcome home.”

*

baekhyun is easy to charm. he is laid on the bed, naked, with his hair casted over his chest. he feels giddy almost, as his hands wander around the sheets. their new room, with a thin canopy encircled around the bed, around them. there is an audience, barred their parents, to document the consummation of the marriage.

he can’t see the wandering eyes, the dull gazes. all baekhyun can see is when junmyeon enters through the gauze canopy. baekhyun couldn’t help the blush across his face when he saw junmyeon in his gwanbok. now, all he sees is the pale expanse of junmyeon’s chest as he undoes his shirt.

“baekhyun,” junmyeon whispers. the moment is heavy, the silence thick. “will you help me?”

instead of answering, baekhyun simply crawls towards junmyeon at the edge of the bed. two years, two years of a set contract – of courting and marriage, that this is the moment baekhyun has waited for. his fingertips brush against the thin line of hair at the bottom of junmyeon’s stomach, his mouth dry. junmyeon’s hands are at his side, chest blushing from the proximity.

the lacing comes undone with a simple tug. junmyeon pulls the trousers off in a swift movement. before baekhyun can back away, junmyeon is on the bed, kissing him.

“my darling,” junmyeon whispers. there are ceramic pots of oil. the room is too warm, the windows closed to keep the sound quiet. as public as the night was, it was to be held within the walls of the marriage room.

baekhyun’s eyes close, a gasp quiet. a whimper. his hands trace junmyeon’s back, his hands settling across the expanse of his shoulders. junmyeon is a fighter as much as he is a diplomat. a wolf in sheep’s clothing. baekhyun’s legs open, wanton. a groomed piece such as him is meant to play the part until the part becomes real, but there is no guessing or struggling with baekhyun.

baekhyun’s vision fades out, eyes closing when junmyeon pushes his cock inside. he can’t fit all the way, baekhyun clenching, feet curling. as usual, junmyeon doesn’t push further, instead he settles within stuttered, slowing motions.

like the sea, baekhyun thinks. like the waves. junmyeon’s mouth finds his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses. the starvation for touching has gone to their heads, coming within minutes. the advisors leave without a word, as baekhyun and junmyeon kiss themselves drunk.

*

jongin is presented to junmyeon in a time of strife.

jongin from the southern lands, where the sun beats heavy. his skin, immaculate and bronzed. his master, a man with the same warm skin, with the same deep eyes, comments that jongin is a dancer. his waist is slender, a curved line that only a calligraphy brush could imitate.

baekhyun is sat at junmyeon’s side, though lower, to represent his status. as the official consort, baekhyun is welcomed into meetings in their large back room, a secondary connected house to entertain political prospects.

despite being the second son, junmyeon plays the role that his father took a rest from. baekhyun knows junmyeon’s father is growing old, with crooked fingers from age. junmyeon slides into the role so effortlessly it sometimes takes baekhyun by surprise, although it shouldn’t. 

“he dances?” junmyeon asks, brows knitted in confusion. “not to be crass of southern traditions, but how will a dancer be of use to me?”

junmyeon doesn’t mean in bed, in a bedroom that isn’t his marriage room with baekhyun, for that room is theirs and theirs alone. the kim family always thinks of strategy first and foremost, before love, before lust.

jongin is sat there. he is in a leisure robe, the color a sunburst red that compliments his skin nicely. baekhyun can feel the heat emitting from the robe and its owner from the other side of the table. he leans his head against junmyeon’s thigh, eyes lolling closed.

their conversation goes on for hours. junmyeon won’t accept a pet just to save face, not when jongin will only be subjected to concubine when he could be a consort to someone in the south, someone who will understand and appreciate jongin in a way that junmyeon cannot, not anymore.

in the end, it’s junmyeon who is won over, when jongin is asked to prove his skill as a dancer.

(“his moves could end wars,” the man says, confident. “and start them, just the same.)

*

baekhyun’s trunks are packed, placed in a separate room to keep their marriage room as pure as it is empty.

“baekhyun,” junmyeon starts. baekhyun’s hair is still held by the hairpiece he had been given seven years ago, eighteen and recklessly in love. “you have to understand why i’m doing this.”

because he’s the most important person to junmyeon, because junmyeon will push the universe on its axis if it meant that baekhyun was safe. jongin and sehun are sleeping in their room, and baekhyun knows to keep his voice quiet for they carry to the graves of their ancestor if they can.

he is combing his own hair. despite being treated like a daughter, despite being seven years younger than his own brother, baekhyun relies on himself if need be. if he had to fall to hell, he would much rather take the plunge himself than having a parade of servants carry him to the sulfur. he looks at himself in the mirror, and takes the hairpiece out.

“i have to obey you,” baekhyun answers. it’s unlike him, unlike the baekhyun that grew and blossomed under junmyeon’s hands, but now he understands his mother. he understands how his heart becomes a cage, rather than a muscle. it traps, but refuses to beat.

junmyeon’s hands find their way in baekhyun’s hair, pulling baekhyun’s head back enough for their gaze to lock. junmyeon is tearful.

in the quiet of their marriage room, junmyeon collapses to his knees, when his hands slip away from the nest of baekhyun’s hair, when he lays his head on baekhyun’s lap and sobs.

“you’re the only one i’d go to war for,” junmyeon confesses, when he has tired himself out from the shuddering gasps, nose red. baekhyun’s hands are cradling his face, slim fingers running through his hair. “the only one i’d challenge the gods for.”

somehow, it’s not enough.

*

lord yixing’s manor is not that of the byun’s or the kim’s.

it’s sprawling, with large clay laid on top of one another in intricate detail. baekhyun knows this is the palace of a man who holds a land’s heart in his hand, watching it beat and whether to constrict blood flow and when to let it rest, healthy.

baekhyun refuses to be seen by junmyeon when he goes to the carriage. he will not appear weak, not when his life was born and bred into the knowledge of becoming a bargain chip. he is junmyeon’s golden ticket. if yixing takes care of baekhyun, junmyeon will fall to his knees and obey. he isn’t the sheep in wolves clothing, anymore. instead, he is the caged dog, barking for mercy, hoping to regain their strength.

jongin took easily to helping baekhyun. baekhyun loves jongin, in a different way than junmyeon does, in an innocent way. his fingers tangled in jongin’s, smiling at the easiness that five years together has brought them.

“you will take care of him,” baekhyun orders, eyes downcast. he is the first concubine, the consort. “you will take care of him for all of us, jongin-ah.”

“of course,” jongin answers, eyes hooded from sleep. “let me tie your robes, baekhyun-ah.”

when baekhyun steps his foot into lord yixing’s manor, he feels like he’s stepped into the lion’s den.


End file.
